Confusion
by Imitating Licentiousness
Summary: Two days after the kiss...


**Author's Note:** And thus the House Flash Fiction resumes. My Spring Break is next week, you can probably look for a longer story then. Sorry for the long delay between stories; frustration about not being able to find a job is beginning to take its toll on me.

This story has no connections with Different, The Linger, or in the Wee Hours of the Morning. Takes place a couple of days after The Kiss in the episode Half-Wit. Please R&R, enjoy.

**Disclaimer:** Still own nothing. Although fairly soon I will be turning in a short script for my Forms of Scriptwriting class, for the first twenty minutes of an episode. Internships, Fox, please?

* * *

CONFUSION

He stares at her out of the corner of his eye while pretending to look at the dry erase board. He twirls his cane between his fingers absently. It is a comfortable habit, something normal, seeing as how nothing has been the same in two days.

Cameron has noticed. He does not look her in the eyes, and what she would almost consider a--could it be?--a _blush_ rising in his cheeks appears when she tries to talk to him face-to-face. Whenever she walks into the room, he suddenly becomes highly interested in the commercial olefin carpet threading, or the leaves in the tree blowing outside the window, and he has developed a great intensity while looking at Chase and Foreman. But not _her_.

House has even been doing his paperwork, hiding out in the men's bathroom. Three hours ago, Wilson came in to find his best friend sitting on a bench in the men's shower room, reading over lab work. Wilson placed his hands on his hips, opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, and walked right back out.

All this because of a damned kiss. She has tossed him off his center of gravity of hurtling insults and sarcastic comments at people. He is not in a good mood, nor a bad one.

It is one of the few times in his life he does not know what to do. Confusion does not suit him. So he stands, the smooth, lacquered cane rotating over and over between his first two fingers and thumb.

He gives her a quick glance. He thinks she does not notice. Then, another quick glance. She catches this one, lifts her head, and gives him a small smile.

_Shit_, he thinks.

"I'll be in my office," he mutters, and hobbles off.

"Did something..._happen_ between you two that I should know about?" Foreman asks.

"If anything happened between us, you shouldn't _know_ about anything," Cameron responds, using her Business Voice.

Foreman knows he is being nosy, and says nothing more. Chase either doesn't care or doesn't have the sense not to say anything else.

"He's just been acting really weird lately."

Cameron gives him a glare. "I don't think it's anyone's business if he's acting weird or not."

"Something definitely did happen, then?"

"Chase," Foreman warns his friend.

House can hear them in the other room. He rests his head against his desks, then puts his headphones into his ears.

* * *

Later, Chase and Foreman have left. Cameron is placing papers neatly back into their folders, then organizing the folders into alphabetical order in the filing cabinet. She hears him come in while her back is turned.

"Did you--"

She turns to face him. He is standing in the doorway, leaning on his cane. "Yes?"

"Were you--" he looks down, eyebrows furrowed.

She crosses her arms, waiting patiently.

"When you kissed me, was that just to get the blood sample?"

She smiles. "Even if it was, does that matter?"

His eyes lock onto hers. "You know it does."

"Why?"

"I kissed back."

"I know."

He nods, then turns as though to leave. Cameron turns back around and resumes her task. Seconds later, she can hear him coming back to her, a hand on her shoulder, turning her around, and before she can say anything, his lips are sliding across hers. She kisses him back, one hand sliding up to rest on his chest, the other gripping his bicep. His free hand curves around her waist to the small of her back, pulling her closer. He deepens the kiss, his lips saying what his voice cannot.

Around the corner, Chase and Foreman are peering into the window, unseen. Foreman holds his hand out. Chase rolls his eyes, and grudgingly slaps a folded bill into Foreman's open palm.


End file.
